


Mistletoe Should Be Canceled

by SleepyEye



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Christmas Party, Consent is everything, F/M, First Kiss, Hot Chocolate, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27996870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyEye/pseuds/SleepyEye
Summary: The prompts were: Nick and Ilsa's Christmas Party, banter, Christmas tree, "I made you some hot cocoa," kissing under the mistletoe (close enough in this case).
Relationships: Ilsa Herbert/Nick Herbert, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25
Collections: Denmark Street Discord Sekrit Santa 2020





	Mistletoe Should Be Canceled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cavanaughpark09](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cavanaughpark09/gifts).



Cormoran disliked most Christmas parties, but this one was especially grating. It was as if Nick and Ilsa were trying to prove that they were  _ fine _ , everything was  _ fine _ , nothing to worry about here. The result was garish, boozy excess. Christmas cocktails flowed. The heater was turned up a bit too high, everyone’s laughter was a bit too shrill, the carols were sung a bit too loudly.

Robin didn’t know very many people at the party aside from Cormoran. Ilsa had wrestled Cormoran into a Santa hat, which only served to highlight his Scroogeness, although Robin had to admit it did something for her. She appreciated his sour expression. It spoke to her soul. She felt out of place and overwhelmed.

To make matters worse, Jim Carey’s  _ The Grinch _ was playing on the TV. It was, without question, Robin’s least favorite film of all time and genres, though she rarely admitted to that out loud. She knew that many people her age lauded it as a holiday classic, but just one look at the Grinch’s furry green face turned her stomach. Doctor Seuss’s book had been essential to Robin’s childhood Christmases, and to her, the live action Grinch turned the joy of Christmas into a slapstick disaster. Robin loved feel-good classics with an underlying anti-capitalist message, like the  _ A Christmas Carol _ , and  _ It’s a Wonderful Life _ , and  _ Millions _ .

Cormoran was pondering when he could start making his excuses and leave, when he felt two hands shoving him in the back. He spilled his drink and nearly stumbled, but managed to catch himself before he crashed into Robin.

“Look, Corm,” Ilsa bellowed from behind him, “You and Robin are caught under the mistletoe!”

Everyone in the room turned to look. Cormoran and Robin stared at each other, stunned, wide-eyed. Then somebody, somewhere, started a chant. 

“ _ Kiss. Kiss. Kiss _ .”

Others joined in, and soon everyone was roaring.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Robin stared up at the mistletoe above them like it was a live grenade. She looked as trapped as Cormoran felt. Anger built under his skin as he saw the terror in her expression. Ilsa had really gone too far this time.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

It was too much, too loud. Robin felt the eggnog roiling in her belly. She was hot, sweating, and she was ashamed to feel tears pricking in her eyes.  _ This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen _ . A room full of people, leering at them. A performance. _ It wasn’t supposed to happen like this _ . Forced into it. The room was spinning, so she turned and ran.

Cormoran managed to hold his temper until he got Ilsa into the kitchen, then he let loose. 

“ _ What _ were you  _ thinking _ ?”

Ilsa was the picture of guilt. The manic, happy mask she had been holding on all evening had shattered, and tears ran down her cheeks. Cormoran was too angry to care.

“I’m sorry,” Ilsa said, “I didn’t think that-- I didn’t mean for people to start chanting like that.”

“You’re the one who cornered us under there. Did you really think that would work?”

“I’m so sorry, Cormoran.”

“Why did you think it would be a good idea?”

“I didn’t think. That was the problem.” She turned to the back door. “Robin is in the back yard. I should go apologize.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Cormoran said. Ilsa stopped.

“No?”

“You apologize and she’s going to say that it’s okay, but she won’t mean it and you won’t believe it, and it will stay there between you for ages.”

Ilsa sagged under the truth of the words.

“How can I make it right?” she asked.

“You can stop trying to force us together. It’s just making things weird.”

Ilsa swiped at her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted... I wanted to make something. Something good.”

“I know. But it’s never going to happen if you keep interfering. You need us to work this out on our own, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Go back to your party. I’ll talk to her.”

The Herberts had chosen their house largely because of the enormous oak tree in the backyard, which they had believed would be perfect for children to play around. They had imagined a swing, maybe even a treehouse. There was none of that, but they still put giant Christmas balls on the branches and decked it out with lights every year. 

Robin sat on the back steps and hugged herself, contemplating the tree and other things that don’t go according to plan. 

The door opened, and she turned to see Cormoran carrying two large mugs of hot chocolate, each topped with whipped cream and a candy cane. She turned back around quickly so that he wouldn’t see her blush. 

“I made you hot chocolate,” Cormoran said, “But you’ll have to take the mugs from me before I try to sit or I’ll spill it all over us both.”

She took them with a nod of thanks and Cormoran sat down clumsily, his prosthesis making the entire thing a jerky half-collapsing choreography. Once he was situated Robin handed him back his mug. 

“It’s the good stuff. I raided Ilsa’s tin of Godiva chocolate mix,” Cormoran said. He immediately remembered that Lady Godiva was an exceptionally sexy character, and felt himself turn red. Robin didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you.”

She stirred the candy cane mindlessly in the mug, then stuck it in her mouth, sucking off the whipped cream. She was oblivious to the effect this had on Cormoran, who tried to do times tables in his head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally. Cormoran raised his eyebrows. He had not expected nor wanted an apology. 

“Sorry? What for?”

“I sort of abandoned you back there. Left you hanging.”

“You did nothing of the sort. You were being forced into something you didn’t want, and you responded in a perfectly rational way.”

Robin sipped at her hot chocolate.

“I just… I really hate mistletoe.”

“Me too.” 

“Mistletoe should be canceled.”

“It’s right up there with Baby It’s Cold Outside,” Cormoran said.

“Mistletoe is just an excuse for the creepy intern to grope you at the office Christmas party.” Robin’s eyes widened as she realized what she’d just said. “Oh, God, not that you’re- You know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean. I’ve received my fair share of non-consensual mistletoe advances.”

They stared at the gently falling snow, which melted before hitting the ground. Their breath came out in white puffs of air that mingled together in the dark.

“Ilsa wanted to come out and apologize,” Cormoran said, “but I told her not to.”

“Thank you. I’d like to mean it when I tell her I’m fine.”

Cormoran smiled.

“That’s what I told her.” 

Robin stirred the candy cane in slow circles, watching the whipped cream spin in her mug like an iceberg. Cormoran was close to her, so close. There had been a moment under the mistletoe, before the fear had kicked in, when their eyes had met, and for a moment,  _ for a moment _ ...

“Even with Matthew, I hated mistletoe,” she said, “Everyone watching, all that pressure. ”

“Nothing is good when you feel like you don’t have a choice.”

“No. And for a first… Well.” She felt her face heating and was glad for the dark. “I don’t like mistletoe.”

Cormoran rubbed the back of his neck. 

“You know I wouldn’t… I would never…” He stared up at the sky like the right words might be written in the stars. All he got was a snowflake in his eye. 

“You’d never kiss me?” Robin finished.

“Ah. No. I mean. Not like that. Or. You know.”  _ Christ almighty. _ “Not without your express consent.”

Cormoran’s hot chocolate sloshed over and he realized his hands were trembling a bit. He set the mug on the step. 

“What about... with it?” Robin asked. She was trying to keep her tone casual.  _ Simply a hypothetical question, nothing to worry about. _ But her voice was a bit higher than usual.

“Sorry?”

“With my express consent?”

“Ah.”

Robin watched him. She bit the inside of her lip and held onto her mug like it was the only real thing tethering her to this earth. She tried to breathe, but it came out shaky. She felt a bit like a teapot about to whistle. 

“If that was something you ever gave me,” Cormoran said, his voice hoarse and low, “Then I don’t think… I don’t think anything on earth could hold me back.”

Robin was fizzing, every nerve ending buzzing. There was too much blood in her brain, and not enough oxygen. Her heart was going at a drumroll pace.

“Are you…” She let out a surprised little giggle. “Really?”

“Is that surprising?”

“A bit, yeah.” 

“I thought I was being so obvious.”

Robin turned to face him. For a moment their eyes met, but his gaze was too strong, holding too much, and Robin had to look down at his hands instead. She noticed they were shivering slightly. Inside the house, somebody had started up a drunken chorus of Silent Night. She licked her lips. 

“When… when we were under the mistletoe, and everyone was chanting,” she said, “My main thought was that that wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to go that way.”

“What wasn’t?”

“Us. You and me. That’s not how we were supposed to start.” She took a shuddering breath. “When I imagined us… happening. It wasn’t in a stuffy room crowded with drunk onlookers.”

“No?”

“No.”

“And how did you imagine us happening?” 

He was leaning in, pulled by gravity or the tide, so close their faces were almost touching. 

Robin smiled, and when she spoke her voice was breathless. 

“You know, the usual fantasy. A snowy evening, with mood lighting in the background, maybe some music playing… totally implausible.”

Now they were touching, noses and foreheads. 

“Robin,” Cormoran breathed, “Is this your express permission?”

Robin responded by catching his mouth with hers. 

When they met, all thought disappeared and for a moment, he was too stunned to do anything. It was like going from an ice storm to a sauna, and the shock of it rendered him paralyzed. He forgot his own name, or where he was. Everything refined into one pure, unblemished emotion. With her, he was exactly where he was supposed to be. 

She pulled back, almost shy, almost anxious, like she didn’t know that she had just rendered him completely senseless. Lobotomized by joy. Her absence left him cold, and he reached out, placing a hand on her jaw.

“Cormoran, wait...”

There was regret in her voice, and he let go of her face immediately. 

“What is it?”

“I have to set down my chocolate.”

Cormoran exhaled in relief, grinning. Robin set her mug down on the porch, then put her hands on either side of his face. She ran her thumbs over his bristly cheekbones. Their eyes met and she broke into a wide open-mouthed grin. 

“Is this for real?” she asked, “Did you really just… did we just…”

“No mistletoe needed,” Cormoran said, before wrapping her into his embrace again. 

Candy Cane and whipped cream, that was Robin. Warmth and softness and the perfect matching of missing pieces.

  
  


Nick found Ilsa in their bedroom. It had been a hard night. She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, her face expressionless. She looked utterly exhausted. 

“Hey gorgeous,” Nick said, sitting on the bed beside her. He brushed the hair away from her forehead.

“Why do I destroy everything I touch?” Ilsa said. 

Nick kicked off his shoes and laid out beside her. 

“You haven’t destroyed me.”

“Are you happy with me? Really?”

Nick wrapped his arms around her. 

“Ilsa, I wouldn’t give you up for anything. Not for three hundred babies.”

Ilsa let out a wet chuckle.

“Well of course not. That’s far too many babies.”

“If someone was to stack five babies on top of each other and put them in a coat to look like one big person, I’d still choose you.”

Ilsa blinked at him, her eyelashes in little wet triangles. 

“I love you so much, Nick.”

“I love you too. But that’s not what I came in here to say.”

“No?”

“No. I came in here to tell you…” he grinned, unable to contain his excitement. “I saw oggy and Robin kissing on the back porch.”

Ilsa sat up. 

“No!”

“Yes. It was a Christmas miracle.”

“You’re lying. You’re trying to make me feel better.”

“I swear.” He pulled out his phone and opened the photos. “I managed a picture through the kitchen window.”

“God we need help. We are far too involved.”

He showed her the photo and she covered her mouth with her hands.

“See?” Nick said, “it worked.”

“I cant believe it.”

“Should we tell them we know?”

Ilsa shook her head. 

“Nah. Let them have this for themselves.”


End file.
